And that, you assure the Pathfinder Society leaders at the Grand Lodge, is how it happened. You vanquished Rippling-Sapphire-Crown before the protean could gain a foothold in the world. All is well. The necromantic artifact is secure, Oakhurst is safe, and Vellumis is…well, no less intact than the usual and proper course of history would have it. And you’re definitely not kobolds. Your tour through the journeys of heroes is over, and you feel you can put it all behind you at last.
Not only have you discovered and defeated both proteans, but you’ve learned that Rippling-Sapphire-Crown sent them through a portal in a concealed courtyard in the city’s nowabandoned wealthy district. Creeping closer, you spy a woodland beyond the yawning portal. That doesn’t look like the churning, extraplanar Maelstrom—it looks like a mundane old-growth forest. Before you can figure out where the portal goes, you feel a strange tugging and are hurled into and through the portal. It seems you’re about to get a firsthand look.
You encountered the protean Form-Twister in the depths of The Wheel Unbroken. Once you demonstrated your might, Form-Twister admitted to imprinting his form upon the necromantic artifact not out of a malevolent plan, but as a jest. Protean humor eludes you.
Form-Twister claims to be working the will of a protean higher in the creatures’ peculiar and convoluted caste structure: a keketar protean named Rippling-Sapphire-Crown.
Rippling-Sapphire-Crown has taken a particular interest in you, but Form-Twister has no idea why. He’s not used to asking questions when things don’t make sense, it seems, as not making sense is part of a protean’s nature. You need to discover why you’ve drawn Rippling-Sapphire-Crown’s attention, but as you leave The Wheel Unbroken, you find yourself amid tall, sooty buildings. You aren’t in Kaer Maga anymore.
When you return to report your success, Master of Swords Marcos Farabellus laughs heartily, “I knew I could count on you! You’ve made the Society proud today.”
With Suliji’s defeat, the last remnants of the Korholm Agenda scatter to the wind. The Aspis leaders call for a truce, agreeing to cede influence in many of the Society’s areas of concern in recognition of your deeds. The Aspis Consortium and the Pathfinder Society may never be allies, but this could well be the beginning of a new era of peace.
Finally, the God Fount’s assault has ended. Shortly after the life fades from its amorphous form, the lake of green acid drains from the room, revealing another reinforced door. Behind the door, you find a woman in a red lab coat. Professor Kramolag. She smirks as you enter.
“Ultimately, my experiment was a success—further proof that divinities are nothing so sacrosanct that proper lab conditions cannot replicate the effects. But I suppose I should thank you for saving my life.”
You demand to know more about her role in the Korholm Agenda’s operations. She sneers in disgust.
“My involvement was... coerced. If I had my way, I’d have nothing to do with the Agenda or that hellion Suliji Peshar.” You ask Kramolag for more information about Suliji. “Suliji’s the one who started it all—with help from her withered patron. If you want to ruin Suliji as much as I do, you’ll go have a ‘talk’ with that patron. His name is Alexayn. Yes, that Alexayn, founder of the Aspis Consortium. Dead for a few centuries, but not everyone stays dead. The old fool’s still based out of his crypt in Ostenso. Wouldn’t be surprised if Suliji manipulated him too. Oh, and if you do find Suliji, send her my... regards.”
Whatever you choose to do with Kramolag from here, it seems she’s telling the truth about Suliji at least. Finally, you can put an end to the Korholm Agenda once and for all.
With the defeat of Loaralis and her allies, you’ve retrieved the stolen sun orchid elixir. And as it turns out, this wasn’t the first vial of the elixir she had gotten her claws on—she already had another!
And though Loaralis wasn’t willing to share her secrets, the meticulous writings she kept in her lair give you more than enough evidence to ruin Kitio’s reputation. It’s also clear that Kitio wasn’t the only member of the Korholm Agenda that the dragon was working with: Her records speak of a secretive Professor Kramolag, studying dark and forbidden lore from beyond the stars in a hidden laboratory. And Loaralis knew where to find her.
Time to pay the Professor a visit.
In the end, the Patchwork King doesn’t die. He simply melts back into the pool from which he emerged, coloring the wax a poisonous blue. You see a bubble rise to the surface and pop with the sound of his scream. He’s gone for now, but it might just be a matter of time before he reforms. You press on instead of sticking around to find out.
It takes some searching, but you eventually find the rabbit’s broken sword among the trinkets and treasures of the waxworks. The King of the Briar Patch is waiting for you outside, his eyes growing wide at the sight of his treasure.
It’s nearly impossible to keep up with him as he leads you, rushing through the woods until you reach an archway. He assures you that it leads back to your own world.
He was right on that count. You step through and find yourself in a field not far from the lodge. He was wrong about other things, though: for a moment, you hear him scream and rail as he fails to cross over into this realm. His screaming is cut off with the closing of the gateway.
It feels like it’s for the best, though perhaps you do feel a little sorry for him.
The rabbit doesn’t concede gracefully, but eventually you are able to tease details from him. Both he and Zassrion seek to escape this world. However, while Zassrion wants to kill you and power himself with your essence, the King of the Briar Patch just wants the other half of his sword.
He swears that once he has it, he will show you a secret path out of this realm. For now, he shows you a path out of the woods and points you to the place where Zassrion, and the rabbit’s sword, await.
What remains of the crowd heckles you as you run out of the theater. Stepping outside, you are caught off guard by unfamiliar sights. You look up at a clockwork sun and a foreign sky. Footsteps and jeering indicate the mob is following you, though, so you keep moving. In front of you is a nightmarish, tangled wood with thorns as big and sharp as knives. Behind you is a murderous puppet and his killer crowd.
What even is today?
You wisely choose the forest and rush in.
As the vampire Taxxak turns to dusk, the halls of Bonekeep fall quiet at last. There is enough information among his notes about the plague to develop a cure, and enough treasure in his lair to live comfortably for the rest of your life. The city of Absalom owes you a debt for your bravery. If only you could remember everything you did to merit it.
With Karnakin’s mind crystal under your control, you don’t have to worry about further bouts of amnesia. Yet there is still more to Bonekeep.
As you tread upon the first step down to the next level, however, your head is wracked with unbearable pain. You’ll need to return another day.
As the dust settles on your battle with Korsan, a passageway at the back of the room catches your eye. The passage twists, leading into a flight of stairs that descends further beneath the ground. Tired and battered, you decide to retreat to report your findings. If your report impresses Ambrus Valsin enough, he will surely select you to be the first to see what lies in the ruin’s second level. Especially since you have noticed there aren’t any other volunteers.
You return triumphant to the Birdcruncher tribe. They are amazed that not only did you defeat the ogres and their pets, but you even lived to tell the tale! They are amazed at your only slightly embellished tales of the battle, and cheer at the newly found ways to play with fire. You are proclaimed heroes, chieftains, and greatest goblins of all time!
It’s good to be the chief and nothing bad could ever happen again, so it’s time for a well-deserved break where no one is thinking about killing you in your sleep. You know, like chieftains get!
You took out the ogre’s fire-breathing pigs and rescued your own lost pig, Squealy Nord! Now you just need to teach him to breathe fire, and the world is yours for the taking. But, first, you need to deal with whatever strange ogre trained these crazy animals!
You’ve escaped the wrath of the terrifying Arch-Lich Kalzaroth, and felt the powers he possessed yourselves… but you still have a job to do. Go deal with those ogres, and maybe you can use some of that forbidden knowledge to your advantage. Or just stab them a bunch. That works too.
Now that you have decided which of you is the new chieftain, it’s time to show your new subjects that you are a tough and strong leader. On Wise Mummy Sprattleharsh’s request, go hunt down the ogre who has been causing problems for the tribe… just watch out for those fire-breathing boars!
The calculations became much clearer when you realized that math underlying it changed depending on the phases of the moon. You didn’t recognize the symbol created by the beams of light, but once you created it, a fourth pyramid appeared seemingly out of thin air, its spire glowing a brilliant blue. It seems that you have succeeded where others have failed— you’ve found the Fourth Star!
The Pactmaster should be pleased. You wish you knew whether that was a good thing. Just once, you’d like to see behind Krimiltuk’s mask to gauge his true intentions as easily as he knows yours.
You did it. You found the spellbook, captured the necromancer and sent the dead back to their resting place. Now maybe you can get some rest too.
You find a tattered old scroll. Skimming over it, it looks pretty bad. Seems someone hoped to use these necromantic stones to raise up an unending army of undead. You decide it's best to just destroy the text.
“Seems wise,” says Besnik. “Only question is, if you’ve got that, then why are there still all these undead running around town?”
Good question, you better figure that out.
You’ve contained the threat to the town for now, but the necromancer themselves is elusive. It’s time to bring the fight to them!
You are unsure whether you neutralized every fragment of the stone from the sky, but the remaining cadavers are barely moving and appear aimless. Many simply collapse into piles of bones and rotting flesh. It should be a simple matter to eliminate those still standing. You have obviously done enough to end this ghastly threat!
At last, the light fades from the risen bones, and they clatter to the broken ground. The floorboards snap back into place as if they had never opened into the mass grave below. When the house falls silent at last, the door at the back of the room opens, revealing four children: three frightened and dirty; the fourth bathed in golden light. The three living children stumble out, elated to see familiar faces. The townsfolk of Tragen weep with relief.
The glowing child smiles sadly. He silently gestures to the spot from which the horde of skeletons arose. Words in childish handwriting appear on the ground. “Stay safe. Don’t forget what the bad people did.”
When you ask the child what happened here, he eagerly responds by covering the floor in many more scrawled words.
Quill and parchment in hand, you transcribe the story of this ill-fated manor.
Everyone calms down, at least for the moment.
“Look,” says one of the cowled figures. “We don’t know where the kids went. We heard them playing around in here, so we tried to make some noise, just to scare them off. Then the whole house turned blue. We’ve been trying to talk to the spirits for months... nothing. And now they show up in packs andtry to kill us!”
When pressed, they explain that they are members of a secret society with an interest in gaining occult wisdom from echoes of the spirits of the past. Craven though they may be, they appear to be telling the truth about not knowing where to find the children. If they try to run off, you can track them down later.
It’s too dangerous in here to delay your search for the children.
The once-grand dining room is now a mess of glass and splinters, but at least it is no longer attacking you. As you hold your torch aloft, the unmistakable outline of a summoning circle drawn in silver shines in the dim light, in the spot where the dining table once stood.
Could this be connected to the spirits that haunt this place?
KRA-THOOOM!
Suddenly, a loud crash echoes down from upstairs. Perhaps there will be time to stare at circles later.
|
3 people marked this as a favorite.
|
And Zelhara became good, sold all her weapons, gave up spell casting, and opened a bait and tackle shop named the Barbed Hook.
The End.
The ghosts are gone, but it’s far from quiet.
Outside the manor, the townsfolk are beginning to panic. Eventually, you convince them to remain outside, promising that you have the situation under control. You hope you’ll be able to keep that promise; otherwise, the townsfolk may suffer whatever horrific fate may await you.
Whatever happens, this night will not be a boring one.
“The town of Belhaim thanks you for your service yet again!” says Lady Origena Devy. “I have arranged for your lodging, and should you be prepared for yet another adventure, I am sure one will come your way any day now.”
You thank the baroness for her generosity.
In the morning, you can decide whether you want to stay in Belhaim another fortnight or seek out new adventures elsewhere.
Tonight, wine and a warm bath await.
For a second time in this millennium, Belhaim slew a mighty dragon bearing the name of Aeteperax. Yet this time it was not the warrior Tula Belhaim who did so. No, it was the Heroes of Belhaim who came calling for the dragon’s hide.
“Let this be memorialized as a lesson,” says Baroness Devy upon your return. “Belhaim does not fall before dragons.” The bards of Shelyn and Abadar hastily compose poems to spread the word. No more will those with wyrm blood take the risk of flying overhead. For one place, one time, the citizens do not fear the demands of dragons.
For you, it may be time to leave Belhaim behind. It will always face dangers, of course. You can visit anytime you like for those. But there’s a big, beautiful Golarion out there, and it always welcomes dragonslayers.
"Go in enlightenment,” said the mummified abbot before he crumbled to dust. “The window has closed forever.”
The monastery’s gates have fallen, and with them the minions of Aeteperax. Now what remains is the unmasking of the villain behind all this treachery.
At this point, you’re convinced that Aeteperax is at least some form of dragon. While unlikely to be the ancient dragon that crashed into the Crypt of Tula a millennium ago, the being has its lieutenants in full agreement that they work for a dragon of considerable power. The lunar naga let slip the creature’s true name, “Szangi.” Perhaps that can be of use.
So a dragon it is. Thankfully, your expedition to Lady Tula’s resting site has girded you with weapons for slaying a dragon. With a little fortitude and a lot of good fortune, you can end the threat to Belhaim. Or you can die trying. Either way, it’s going to be an exciting night.
You have broken through the grioths’ cell of webs and freed their prisoners. Filled with gratitude, the families of the victims try to give you what riches they can muster. You are satisfied with simply reuniting them with their loved ones.
You find yourself contemplating this Dark Window through which the grioths come. Priestess Targas spoke of forcing them back through the window, but that seems too likely to repeat the danger the land currently faces.
Should you encounter this Dark Window, you will shatter it for all eternity. The grioths can find another world to invade.
The drake and the grioths have done their damage, yet you kept their rampage contained. The auction attendees are preparing to collect their winnings when the air is split by a thunderous roar.
“I am Aeteperax, Lord of Dragonfen,” bellows a massive winged creature from a nearby rooftop. The dragon’s dark wings outline a skeletal body and eyes that burn with deathless fire.
“You have exhausted my patience. Your wizard promised many things, including five rare and ancient tomes. I have tried to obtain these lawfully, but I will now take what I demand. Bring the books and 2,000 pieces of gold for each of your craven residents to the Monastery of Saint Kyerixus in two weeks, or I will flatten this dunghill to the very earth!”
With that, the dragon vanishes. The townspeople are in revolt; surely there is no way they can summon up more than 700,000 gold pieces. “What shall we do?” they cry as one.
“Well,” says a gnome from the back, “we could just kill it.”
As Bassy predicted, you found the great dragon’s bones stuck deep in the earthen mound above Lady Tula’s tomb. If the dragon Aeteperax is plaguing Belhaim, it is doing so without its skeleton.
Deep in the crypt, Lady Tula’s spirit approached you with a request. When you slew her husband’s wraithform, she bade you to bring her his wedding band. This would permit him a rest eternal, ending the centuries-long strife in the tomb. You did this deed, and Lady Tula beckoned you to take her sword Wyrmsmite and her dragonbane arrows in return.
So armed, you left the tomb in far better shape than when you found it. You are confident that Lady Tula’s spirit will guide your hand against whatever dragon threatens Belhaim. Assuming, of course, that a dragon actually does.
"No!” says Hunclay’s mad servant Mathezic. “Those are my dead master’s things!”
Now that Hunclay’s magical servitors have been cleared out of his mansion, a new force descends upon the manor: a cadre of auction clerks. They immediately start subdividing and re-subdividing the wizard’s possessions into various lots. As soon as one lays out a lot of kitchen accessories, another sorts it into two lots of cutlery and dishes. Apparently, there is no hair split so fine that it cannot be split further.
They are quite interested that you discovered a secret cave guarded by a demon zombie. Therein, you found Hunclay’s spellbooks, astrology volumes, and a mind- bending book called Secrets of the Dreaming Dark. Its mysteries cannot be easily divined. You would have to read the language Draconic in its most ancient script to have a chance of comprehending it.
That is exactly the kind of thing you did not want to find in Hunclay Manor.
"We go!” says Nighttail. “Yes, we go now, we do, we do.”
In lockstep, the kobolds get ready to leave. The Blood Vow kobolds are headed for a new home under the glib leadership of the Swamp Dragon leader Nighttail and her astonishingly convincing pet allosaurus, Hak. Once Hak showed his peculiar method of “playing” with the deposed Chief Roaghaz, everyone else got in line pronto. The Swamp Dragons’ old lair is about to get some new denizens.
This may not be the solution everyone expected, but it’ll do for now. Meanwhile, you have a new problem: the dragon Aeteperax is supposed to be have been dead for centuries. Roaghaz made it clear that he wasn’t worshipping a dead dragon. He believed he was dealing with the real thing.
If the Belhaimites think they’ve solved their problems by chasing away some dragon- headed humanoids today, they might have a new dragon-headed problem tomorrow.
“No kill me!” the captured kobold ranger Sesserak shouts in her broken Common. “Blood Vow chief Roaghaz will kill me if you do!”
Oookay. Anyway, you found a pair of dead kobold saboteurs near the blast site. This is enough to stoke the Belhaimites’ fears. Before today, the kobolds kept away from the bounds of Belhaim. And now its citizens are using words like “invasion” and “treachery.”
Defeating a raven-shaped imp led you to another body you found in the wreckage. The wizard Balthus Hunclay lay dead between the kobolds, suggesting he conspired with them to bring the tower down. It’s unlikely he planned to do so upon himself, which suggests he was betrayed by his own associates.
The Baroness wants you to calm the minds of all present.
“I hate to ask this, but I need you to dislodge these ‘Blood Vow’ kobolds from our region,” she says. “You’ve been heroes once this week. Care for a second opportunity?”
You certainly didn’t leave the Azure Star in better shape than you found it, but you didn’t let the aluum get away, either. The nonchalance with which the Zephyr Guards regarded the battered golem you left on the Pactmasters’ doorstep suggests that they really do see everything in Katapesh.
Roderus is far more upbeat. “Excellent work! But the job is only half done. I’ve gathered your supplies, and the desert awaits.”
You steel yourself for a trip that will not be as comfortable as your urban setting is now. The desert is hot in eastern Katapesh, and quite unforgiving.
In the end, the Patchwork King doesn’t die. He simply melts back into the pool from which he emerged, coloring the wax a poisonous blue. You see a bubble rise to the surface and pop with the sound of his scream. He’s gone for now, but it might just be a matter of time before he reforms. You press on instead of sticking around to find out.
It takes some searching, but you eventually find the rabbit’s broken sword among the trinkets and treasures of the waxworks. The King of the Briar Patch is waiting for you outside, his eyes growing wide at the sight of his treasure.
It’s nearly impossible to keep up with him as he leads you, rushing through the woods until you reach an archway. He assures you that it leads back to your own world.
He was right on that count. You step through and find yourself in a field not far from the lodge. He was wrong about other things, though: for a moment, you hear him scream and rail as he fails to cross over into this realm. His screaming is cut off with the closing of the gateway.
It feels like it’s for the best, though perhaps you do feel a little sorry for him.
“Oh well, well, well,” says Master Gribb, “this will not do at all.” The caravan master eyes you as if you are somehow to blame for the colossal wolves that descended upon his caravan.
“Such carelessness,” he muses aloud as he blithely deposits some of the more precious cargo into his pockets. “It’s so hard to find good help these days.”
The watchcaller looks down at you from her barely controlled horse, visibly urging you not to take out the day’s misfortunes on the only man who can pay her.
“I imagine the Belhaim Town Council will want to hear of your errors this day,” Gribb says.
Sadly, you expect they will. Ah, well. You did ask for some excitement.
The rabbit doesn’t concede gracefully, but eventually you are able to tease details from him. Both he and Zassrion seek to escape this world. However, while Zassrion wants to kill you and power himself with your essence, the King of the Briar Patch just wants the other
half of his sword.
He swears that once he has it, he will show you a secret path out of this realm. For now, he shows you a path out of the woods and points you to the place where Zassrion, and the rabbit’s sword, await.
What remains of the crowd heckles you as you run out of the theater. Stepping outside, you are caught off guard by unfamiliar sights. You look up at a clockwork sun and a foreign sky. Footsteps and jeering indicate the mob is following you, though, so you keep moving. In front of you is a nightmarish, tangled wood with thorns as big and sharp as knives. Behind you is a murderous puppet and his killer crowd.
What even is today?
You wisely choose the forest and rush in.
What remains of the crowd heckles you as you run out of the theater. Stepping outside, you are caught off guard by unfamiliar sights. You look up at a clockwork sun and a foreign sky. Footsteps and jeering indicate the mob is following you, though, so you keep moving. In
front of you is a nightmarish, tangled wood with thorns as big and sharp as knives. Behind you is a murderous puppet and his killer crowd.
What even is today?
You wisely choose the forest and rush in.
You continue with your story for Venture-Captain Roderus.
“Gathering all the items and wrestling them back into their containers proved exhausting. Zarta reviewed a nearby ledger with irritation while taking inventory. ‘Not only was the monocle missing,’ she said, ‘but there were several additional objects absent, including a locket that I was pretty sure was possessed. None of these items are marked as missing on here, which means we need to talk to the archivist responsible for this area…’ She peered at her records before pointing to a name. ‘Panven Wikar. He’s worked here for several years, so if he’s been helping smuggle artifacts from the Grand Lodge, we have a bigger problem. I’d say we both have many questions, and I doubt we’ll have many answers unless you track down this man.’
“Our investigation led us to Katapesh, where Wikar was hoping to sell some of the stolen relics in the marketplace.”
Roderus thoughtfully considers your words. “That is indeed an interesting story.”
Most of the undead and fiends lie destroyed, and Koth’Vaul vanished just as you cornered him between a hard wall and a pack of ghouls. With your remaining foes scattered, you set off for the maftets’ temporary camp. There, the worst of Ashasar’s conditions have faded thanks to Erayu’s ministrations. Even so, the geniekin admits that the Mana Wastes is a far more extraordinary and difficult challenge than he was ready to admit.
You aren’t too eager to stick around, either. After all, it’s only a matter of time before another storm hits, and every day you carry the Atramentous Eye increases the chance it begins feeding again.
If there’s anyone who can suppress its magic and keep it safe, it’s Zarta Dralneen of the Pathfinder Society’s Dark Archive. It’s time to return to Absalom.
There are bargains to be made and promises to be kept.
At last you knock the orb out of the sphinx’s grip, sending it rolling down a dusty hall. She flails about, screaming in pain as her fiendish features begin to fade. Within moments, she has recovered and looks to you with fatigue and relief.
“Koth’Vaul. He approached me in the guise of a djinni on the pretense of trading riddles. When I bested him, he offered me a single wish. I asked for a riddle that would reveal a truth I had never fathomed. He granted it along with that orb, telling me it was a clue.” She grits her teeth in shame. “The more I pondered it, the more relentless I became. I began to change, hunger, then transform. He returned only days ago to mock me and show his true form: an immense, scaled demon. Even knowing him for a fiend could not stop my curiosity. I have hurt too many.
“Let me pose a riddle to you: How can I atone?”
Several maftet cultists lie dead, and the others have scattered, crying out for their sphinx patron to help as they flee toward the ruined fortress. You take a moment to study the expanse of bizarre patterns they created by carefully arraying stones atop the rocky soil. The patterns align with the partly healed tattoos incised on the fallen cultists’ skin, and you can’t help but be reminded of the ritual foci you helped arrange for Ashasar.
The fleeing maftets have almost reached the citadel but thankfully have received no sign of reinforcements. Could the sphinx be preparing an even more powerful ritual for the fiend Koth’Vaul without knowing it? Worse, how might the Mana Wastes’ unpredictable magic affect this rite?
If you are to intervene, you need to hurry. You set off after the fleeing maftets, hoping to catch them before they bring the wrath of the sphinx down upon you.
"That’s the last of them,” shouts Ashasar as you reunite under a shower of glowing hail. He turns toward the storm’s heart, plants one hand on the ground, and holds one toward the sky. Across the miles-wide area, the disks begin to glow, and the storm begins to slowly dissipate.
You run over to congratulate Ashasar, only to find him shaking. His veins stand out with sickly purple energy and he coughs teal smoke as he stands with some difficulty. Then he points toward the east. On the horizon, you can see winged figures flying your direction.
Your efforts have not gone unnoticed.
Your journey has been as harrowing as Cloudreaver Keep’s guards predicted. Fortunately, for every couple of tribes that sought to beat you senseless and take your gear, another tribe offered you hospitality and a welcome respite before urging you to keep moving.
Your current hosts are a tight-knit clan of ratfolk led by the matriarch Saka Naht. Deep in their underground warren, she warns you of a terrible storm that struck to the east weeks ago and has not abated. What’s more, foes far stronger than those you’ve faced before live to the north and the south of that region, so skirting around the storm would be very difficult. Saka continues to describe the storm’s danger, but each warning only increases the intensity in Ashasar’s eager expression.
The forecast for tomorrow looks grim.
Gulreesh chortles with delight when you tell him that you have dealt with the smugglers.
“You Pathfinders are my kind of folks.” With one of his tentacles, he pulls a map from Sarenrae-knows-where and presents it to you. “There’s a warehouse covered in illusions where some shady-looking Qadirans have been moving the missing people—mostly women, I think, though you humans are so difficult to tell apart sometimes. This map will lead you to a secret back entrance from the undercity that bypasses most of the defenses. Enjoy!”
Of course, the back entrance is on the opposite side of the undercity from here, so that means even more trudging through sewers. Given that Venture-Captain Perseis is a noble and a Shelynite, you didn’t expect her to be willing to put up with the filth, but then again, she flies above the main flow and seems to have some magic that keeps her clothes pristine.
The thriae are scattered and slain, and Alhaman grins as he lowers jars of reddish honey into a bag. “Nicely done, Pathfinders! We found a cell imprinted with that cartouche of yours over there.” You break open the wax barrier and search Mnesoset’s possessions, finding a reference to the army she sought. It was not mortal, but machine, built by the Jistka Imperium ages ago. If you are to find the sage, her trail leads to Rahadoum. You had best hurry before anyone else offers to help you.
When the dust settles, one of the guards thanks you.
“Without your help, Kholoran might have gotten away. As for this undead loving miscreant,” she gestures toward the slumped form of the pasha’s agent, “she seemed to be under mind-controlling magic.”
The pasha’s unwitting agent speaks quietly, “A vampire ordering dangerous prisoners to be freed from Nex? He is likely from Geb. You won’t find a better guide to that realm than Nyctessa. Please, let us strike together against our mutual enemy.”
If you agree to her proposal, you’d best keep an eye on her.
|
